


Certain Truths

by vesta02



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halamshiral, Love, little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesta02/pseuds/vesta02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are three truths he is certain of, Solas thinks, standing in his designated corner of the Winter Palace."</p><p>Whereupon Solas muses on three truths he knows at the Winter Palace and his relationship with Ellana Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certain Truths

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me when I somehow didn't trigger the cut scene at the end of Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

There are three truths he is certain of, Solas thinks, standing in his designated corner of the Winter Palace. 

The first is that he’s had more than enough to drink, yet he continues. They pass by him, elves with narrowed eyes and uncertainty on their tongues but they pour wine into his goblet, a swift nod. Solidarity, he thinks wryly, but he doesn’t say no. The drink loosens him up, making his stiff, old limbs languid and relaxed against the pillar. In a way, he’s a shadow of his former self and, if he focuses, he can pretend that he’s back where he belongs. 

But the Winter Palace is no Arlathan and the vision cracks after only a moment.

The second is that he desperately wants to ask Ellana to dance. He’s watched her most of the night, slipping from his space to view her on the dance floor with Duchess Florianne. She moves with as much grace as she can muster and Solas is certain she’s counting the steps under her breath. He watched her practice in the weeks before, her youthful face splitting into a grin as she glided into his rotunda, reaching a hand out for him to take. “I must practice, lest I cause a national incident,” She had told Solas with mirth in her eyes.

In his study, she had danced barefoot, spinning away when he didn’t take the hand offered. “Another time then,” She’d said with no hint of disdain, decidedly not pointing out the cowardice of his lack of action. Ellana had been so patient, giving him the space he’d requested. She’d kept their walk in the Fade between them, their kiss a quiet secret, allowing their relationship to remain professional. She still flirted ever so slightly: her fingers lingering along his shoulder, a smile meant only for him, late nights when she questioned him from the couch, legs draped over the leg, arms folded across her stomach, listening and asking for tales of his journey as a man and in the dreaming world.

He knows he shouldn’t, that this is a terrible idea. He has a duty to the People. Ellana deserves someone youthful, vibrant and free like she is, someone who can give their whole heart to her, who will love her with what time she has left. 

She’s so bright and beautiful, far beyond her physical form. He can’t keep his eyes off her when she enters the room, green eyes narrowed in concentration. She would have fit in with the elves of old; despite her earnest nature and tender heart, Ellana understands the Grand Game with striking clarity, regardless of how she feels about it all personally. 

She’s a sight to behold, her formal military uniform pressed and in place as she tugs a glove back onto her hand. A small tendril of dark blonde hair escapes the braid she keeps it in. There’s worry on her expression but when she looks up, their eyes meeting, her face lights up. She slips through the throng of people, quietly muttering her apologies, finally sliding into place at his side.

“Having fun?” She asks, tilting her head, the candle light catching the markings of her vallaslin across her pale skin. “Better yet, how do you feel about escaping to the servant’s quarters soon?” 

Solas manages a tight-lipped smile. “It’s…intriguing,” He admits, “but I will follow your lead-“ He thinks, for a moment, to call her by her name, to reach out and brush the small tendril away from her face, to let his touch linger along her neck, but he catches himself, “-Inquisitor, you know that.”

“Of course, Solas,” She smiles, but it’s a tired one. “I’ll be happy to be done here. These boots are killing me.” Her hand grasps his, so light and quick, and his heart stutters in his chest. “I’ll let you know when we move again.”

She’s gone into the crowd and Solas tries to focus. But his mind is so far away.

The third thing comes much later, when victory falls at their feet. Ellana slips away from the crowds, a hand at the back of her neck as she steps out to the balcony. There’s a moment when he thinks he should follow, offer a hand to her, ask her to dance-

-but Josephine steps in and Solas feels his moment slip away. He’s too old for these games of the heart, far too entangled in his own affairs to drag her into all of this.

For the third thing, which he knows is true, is that he is completely and utterly in love. And there’s no tome or action or spell that can undo what’s already been done.

A man in love, a coward, still unable to reach out to her. He lingers in the door and, for a moment Ellana glances behind her and their eyes meet. Solas freezes, uncertain, before letting the mask fall back into place. He gives a quick nod and turns away from the doorway. He needs more wine, something to drown the onslaught of emotion that washes through his heart.

For the truth, regardless of the form it takes, is still hard for him to swallow.


End file.
